


the green and the grey

by Poose, seven_hells (Poose)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating, F/M, Het, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/seven_hells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme prompt: Robb/Margaery cheating on their spouses while avoiding pregnancy. I really don't even know what's happening anymore. Someone should stop me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the green and the grey

Margaery did not need moon tea to keep her belly flat, for Renly had yet to put a baby inside of her, and at this stage, she grew ever more doubtful that he would rise to the occasion.   
  
Obviously Renly had her brother to satisfy his wants, whereas Margaery was left with her handmaidens, who were pretty but dull, and Brienne, whose loyalty was to Renly, not her. Unless Margaery was mistaken, the maid of Tarth was very much in love with her husband - a rather sweet thought. The lady knight stood even less of a chance of bedding him than Margaery did, which was perhaps a small consolation.   
  
The fact that their marriage remained unconsummated ten months in bothered her only because Renly lacked an heir, and without one son -- better still more than just the one -- than no man, and certainly no _king_ , would be safe.   
  
Robb Stark seemed happy enough with his young wife, a pretty slim-hipped thing who lowered her eyes in Margaery's presence and rushed to curtsy when they met at supper. Margaery thought the girl comely. Her pregnancy surely suited her, but she was too demure for the young wolf, with eyes of blue ice and lust that she could read from across the supper table. Margaery did her best not to torment him, but it couldn't always be helped. The clench of his jaw when she traced a finger atop her wineglass gave her almost as much pleasure as their nighttime visits did. He came to her in her chambers; for she could scarce visit his. Some nights he would steal in smelling of her, the rose perfume his young wife wore. It made Margaery's stomach turn, and then she wished with all her heart to be able to take him inside of her.   
  
That was out of the question, at least until one heir had been birthed. There were other things, she knew. Different ways to please a man.   
  
"Your Grace," he would say, against the flesh of her inner thigh, "You looked very lovely today. Green suits you."   
  
The green dress remained on, the way Robb liked it, skirts spilling around her legs. The state of never-quite-undress was a precaution. Even with the door barred and his direwolf standing sentinel, one could never be too careful. Robb lifted her hem up past her waist. He pushed her back onto the featherbed and hitched her legs around his neck. Robb fought a war with his mouth, she thought, down there, each night that he came to her. He sucked one sweet shudder after another from between her lips as she fisted a hand in the furs.   
  
He looked up, the green in his eyes set off by her skirts tangled round his shoulders, and she tugged on his doublet to feel his mouth upon her own.   
  
"Kiss me, little wolf," she demanded. "Kiss me and let me see you."   
  
Robb's mouth fell open and she blushed at her brazenness, but the feel of him, hard against her leg -- hard for  _her,_ wanting _her,_ aroused a deep stirring inside her. His hand between them opened his breeches, and she slipped one of her own inside to close around him. Always clothed, never bare, these scant touches of flesh were balm and fire to her body.   
  
" _Gods_ ," he said, as she guided him against her, to rub through where he had left her wet from his mouth, "what I wouldn't give to be inside of you."   
  
"Soon, little wolf," she whispered, tangling her other hand in his hair. Robb rocked his hips against her own until her passion flamed again. And then, when he was wet enough from rubbing himself through her slit, she steered him to the other place, dark and secret, for lovers that could never truly consummate.   
  
"That will have to suffice for now," she gasped out, as he fitted himself between her legs. Her silken skirts had grown damp beneath her lower back. Robb bracketed her face with his hands; his eyes closed in pleasure, his lips parted, and his red curls clung to his sweaty brow.   
  
"Are you close, my lord?" she asked. When he nodded, quivering, breathless as he thrust into her, she tucked a hand between her legs. As she matched his rhythm with a fingertip, then two, then the whole flat of her hand, she found herself shaking once more.   
  
Three of her fingers went into Robb's mouth to keep his cries quiet. She felt him spend inside her, a hot rush that filled her with a happiness for his presence but a sadness all the same. The weak twitches after he had spent made him go boneless atop her, and only then would they kiss.   
  
They kissed to keep awake. Margaery dozed off several times, but Lord Stark remained vigilant enough. He would wake her with a kiss on the tip of her nose, and then brushed one against each cheek, then each eyelid, before pressing one final kiss to her mouth.   
  
"Goodnight, little wolf," she would whisper to his retreating shadow.   
  
"Goodnight, my queen," he said, in a low ruble that made her shiver. He tucked the furs around her and touched her hair.   
  
After he left, Margaery kept her hand between her legs to remind her of him, where he had been, and yet could not be.


End file.
